Taking Time
by arethesemyfeet
Summary: He hadn't intended to come here today. He hadn't intended to ever come here if he was honest. But he doesn't doubt that someday something would have triggered a memory that he wouldn't have been able to suppress and he would have ended up here anyway...


_Disclaimer: The characters portrayed below do not belong to me and nor will they ever._

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It was getting cooler. The day had been warm. Glorious even. Weather-wise at least. But now a chill was beginning to set in. He pulled the zipper up on his jacket and buried his chin in the collar. He hadn't intended to come here today. He hadn't intended to ever come here if he was honest. But he doesn't doubt that someday something would have triggered a memory that he wouldn't have been able to suppress and he would have ended up here anyway, talking to a granite headstone that bore the name of the woman he loved over a series of numbers that told of her untimely death.

He can see her sitting there beside the mound of fresh earth adorned with wreaths and flowers. He knew he'd find her here. Her hair is fluttering softly in the wind that is starting to pick up. He sighs and, shoving his hands into his pockets, makes his way across the cemetery towards her.

She doesn't look up when he sits down on the grass next to her but he is surprised when she is the first to speak only seconds later.

"You weren't at the funeral." It isn't phrased as a question but he doesn't doubt that she wants an explanation for his absence. Sighing he pulls his legs up and rests his elbows on his knees.

"This isn't how I wanted to remember." They are silent for awhile and he takes the time to survey some of the cards attached to the bouquets. Most are from people whose names he doesn't recognise but there are the odd one or two from mutual friends. Parker has left a drawing of an angel with long dark hair, a flowing white dress and large grey wings. A yellow halo sits askew atop her head. In childish writing (although no doubt his most careful) he has written:

"Say hi to the angels in heaven for me. You'll be the best one up there. I'll miss you. Love Parker"

He smiles at this but it feels awkward, like it doesn't fit his face anymore. Nothing seems to fit anymore. He sighs deeply and stares at the blades of grass he is worrying between his fingers. He is surprised when she speaks again. It's never been like her to try and fill the silence between two people.

"If it's not how you want to remember then why are you here? Why didn't you just stay wherever it was you disappeared to?" He turns to her.

"You're angry at me." She nods. "But you hate these things. The last time we went to a victim's funeral you complained about what a farce the whole thing was."

"This one was different."

"Why?" She looks at him then, blue eyes blazing.

"Because it was her funeral Jack! Angela's funeral. And you didn't show"

"You didn't want to go to Booth's funeral remember?"

"That was different." Her voice is softer now, less angry though he doubts that will last too long.

"What, you mean in the sense that he wasn't really dead? Because you're right, that is a big difference." He can't help the bitterness that seeps into his voice. Her head snaps up and she glares at him and he can tell she's still haunted by those two weeks without him. He's only now starting to understand how it must have been for her.

"I meant that you loved her. That's the difference." He chooses to bite back the obvious retort and is hit by the knowledge that the person who would have called her on it is lying in the ground before him. He decides that the where she is concerned the truth is always a better option.

"That's why I couldn't come. Because I loved her. I couldn't come to a ceremony where people said nice things about her. Things they never would have said to her face. Things they took for granted when she was here. I never took her for granted, Brenna. Even when we weren't together. Once we got over the initial awkwardness we still talked. Not about anything important but we were still friends. And that was because I wanted her to be in my life. It didn't matter that I couldn't have all of her because even a little bit of Angela was worth an awful lot. I don't like to think of her as gone. Not yet. Maybe not ever. So I couldn't come here and say goodbye to her when I'm not ready to let her go." He turns away from her name on the gravestone and chuckles mirthlessly at Brennan's somewhat alarmed face. "Don't worry Dr. B, I'm not delusional. I know she dies. I'm just not ready to commit her...spirit if you will, to the ground yet." She looks relieved but it quickly turns to confusion.

"But if you're not ready then why are you here?"

He's' not quite sure how happy she'll be to hear the answer but he has found that honesty generally works best with her.

"Booth was worried about you." She makes an annoyed noise somewhere between a snort and a grunt and he almost smiles. Almost. "He called me to see if I knew where you were. I figured you might be here." She chooses to ignore this train of conversation.

"You sent flowers."

He shrugs. "Seemed like the thing to do." He realises he has worn a circle in the grass and the brown earth is showing through. He sprinkles the shredded grass blades into place and frowns, dissatisfied at how the patch stands out from the grass around it.

"What do they mean?"

"Huh? He blinks, unable to remember the last thing they spoke of.

"The flowers. You know the meanings of everything. What does the bouquet mean? "He can tell she is genuinely curious, when is she not, but he just shrugs.

"Nothing. They mean nothing." They sit in silence for a few minutes before he remembers who he is talking to and realises that elaboration is never surplus to requirement where she is concerned.

"Angie wasn't big into meaning. Not of flowers, or our equipment at work, or even life. She took things at face value and chose not to probe any deeper. So the flowers don't mean anything. They're just flowers. I picked the most beautiful ones. She's an artist. She appreciates beauty." He is grateful when she chooses not to comment on his use of present tense.

"I brought the daffodils" She points at the simple vase of golden blooms and the side of the headstone. "They make me smile."

"Me too", he adds, understanding her choice.

"Do you think it'll get easier?" He doesn't need to ask what she's talking about.

"Maybe. In time. It'll never be the same though."

"My life was never the same once Angela entered it." Her voice is sombre but her eyes are unfocused and there's a small smile playing on her lips he knows the memories replaying in her head aren't unhappy ones.

"Well you were kind of her project." Her smile stretches slightly and he's surprised to feel his own lips echoing it.

"She was always trying to get me out of the damn lab!" She laughs softly but there is regret marring its sound.

"And get you to go shopping."

"Or clubbing!" Their smiles are genuine now and he decided to take the risk,

"Or trick you into admitting how much you like Booth..." Her smile falters and she turns her head to look at him. He holds up his arms in a surrender gesture and leans away from her slightly, "Hey, just continuing her legacy." She contemplates this for a few moments before her mouth twitches into a smile.

"It wouldn't really be fair to let all her hard work go to waste I guess..." He smiles and is glad that it is in this place that she finally decided to accept the truth. He hops up from the ground and extends a hand.

"Better get you back to him then, huh?"

"There's no huge panic." She's backtracking but let's him help her up none the less. "He's not going anywhere" He ushers her towards the car park.

"You never know Dr. B" he says and spares one last glance at the headstone,

**Angela Hodgins**

**Wife, Mother, Friend.**

**Loved.**

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_Thanks for reading. Feel_ _free to let me know what you thought!_**  
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